


Someone New

by hobbit_hedgehog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, Kissing, Oral sex mention, Pining, Songfic, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbit_hedgehog/pseuds/hobbit_hedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve falls in love just a little bit every day with someone new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone New

**Author's Note:**

> This has been floating around in my brain for a while and I finally had the chance to write it down and get it out of my system. I'll post a new chapter of College Town Coffee tomorrow. Based off the Hozier song and music video of the same name. Enjoy!

Steve had a, well, he wouldn't really call it a problem. It was more of a habit. A strange habit, but a habit nonetheless. He couldn't remember when it all started, but he could remember his favorites.

***

There was the Neighbor. Steve was fairly reclusive, never really inviting his neighbors to his apartment or taking them up on their invites to apartment functions. Steve was a solitary man, he liked his privacy. And then she moved in. The Neighbor was a nurse, though there was something about her that made Steve think that was just a cover for something. Like Steve, she was fairly reclusive, choosing not to interact with their other neighbors, though she did flash Steve a warm smile every time they passed in the hall.

Steve had to admit that she was absolutely stunning. Her golden hair fell in gentle curves that reached her shoulders and framed her face nicely. On the few occasions that they both acquiesced to their neighbor's wishes and went to apartment gatherings, Steve would take a few moments to observe her. Steve always noticed new things about her, like the way her brown eyes would light up when she talked about her passions, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, the way her mouth would tighten whenever someone would say something rude about her profession; no matter what she did, it melted Steve's heart a bit.

One night as Steve was returning home from a nighttime motorcycle ride around DC, the Neighbor was stepping out of her apartment, arms full of laundry and her phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, no," she said, flashing Steve a smile. "Listen, I gotta go. K, love you, bye." With that, the Neighbor hung up the phone, tossing it into her laundry basket with a sigh. "My aunt," she explained. "Bit of an insomniac."

Steve merely smiled in acknowledgement and turned to enter his apartment. At the last second, he turned back, "Hey, um… If you want, if you want, you could use my machines."

The Neighbor raised her eyebrows in mild surprise, her lips pushing out as she contemplated his offer. "And what would that cost me?"

Steve shrugged and weakly offered, "A cup of coffee?"

The Neighbor bit her lip before dropping her laundry basket and walking closer to Steve. Steve's face flushed as she drew nearer and she grinned, going up on tiptoes so she and Steve were closer in height.

"I've got something better in mind, if you don't mind," she whispered, her lips almost touching his.

Steve swallowed and nodded and that was all she wrote. The Neighbor closed the gap between the two of them. Steve's hands instantly went to her hair, his fingers running through her golden hair as he pulled her closer. She hummed in pleasure, resting her arms on Steve's shoulders. After a moment, she dropped back down to flat feet and Steve followed, not breaking the kiss. It was an intense kiss, neither party fighting for control, but there was still this raw need that drove the pair, a need to be closer. The kiss was leaving Steve lightheaded, but he didn't want to break this off, not when he was enjoying himself this much.

"That's really sweet of you to offer," the Neighbor's voice cut through the fog of Steve's thoughts, "but I already have a load in downstairs and I just finished a cycle on the infectious disease ward."

Ah. Right. They weren't… Steve gave the Neighbor a charming smile and a calming hand gesture, "Well, I'll keep my distance then."

"Hopefully not too far," the Neighbor replied and Steve's stomach did a little flip. "I'll catch you around… uh, Steve? Right?"

"Yeah, I'll catch you around Sharon," Steve replied before heading into his apartment. As he closed the door, he let out a sigh. He backed up against the door and slid down the wood until he reached the floor.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Steve sang to himself, head resting against the door and eyes closed.

***

There was the Runner, that one started while he was out running one morning. As he started his daily laps around the Mall of America, Steve noticed a black man running jogging just ahead of him. The man was dressed in all gray workout clothes and his black hair was trimmed close to his scalp. Curious as to what the man looked like from the front, Steve picked up his pace until he was almost sprinting. Steve slowed to a casual run as he caught up to the man, glancing at him from the side of his eye. The man had a thin mustache and goatee, with the warmest brown eyes Steve had ever seen. They were the type of decadent brown that Steve could get lost in for hours. And God, the man's cheekbones. This man had to be one of the most gorgeous men Steve had ever seen.

So naturally he had to say the smoothest line he could think of, "On your left."

The runner turned his head slightly to nod at Steve, his expression neutral. Steve surged forward, sprinting to get ahead. This happened several more times over the course of a week. Steve would go for his morning run, see the Runner who Steve had yet to get a name from and would eventually lap the man, calling "On your left" each time. The man eventually picked up on Steve's game and began chasing Steve, trying to outrun him. Steve's heart leapt a bit when the man finally lapped Steve, calling out "On your right" in a rich, deep voice. Steve slowed to a halt then, his knees weak. If he had thought the man was attractive earlier, holy hell…

The Runner himself stopped, turning to look back at Steve before calling out, "You doing alright Running Man? Or do I need to come back there and help your geriatric ass along?"

Steve slowly approached the man, his eyes flicking between the man's eyes and his lips. The man crossed his arms and smiled warmly at Steve. Steve finally stopped in front of the unknown man, his gaze firmly locked on the other man's face.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve whispered without really thinking about what he was saying. "I don't even know your name, but can I?"

The Runner didn't say anything in response, he instead placed his hands on Steve's face and drew him in closer. The kiss was slow, but there was heat behind it. Steve brought his hands up to the man's neck, pulling him even closer. It probably wasn't proper to be doing this first thing in the morning out in public, but Steve really couldn't care less. The other man's mouth was warm against his and Steve could feel himself go weak in the knees. The man shifted his hands from Steve's face to place one on his neck, the other roaming down Steve's body to rest on his waist. Steve's breath hitched slightly and the other man let out a groan of his own. Steve took the opportunity to take a bit of control and ran his tongue over the other man's bottom lip. The other man opened his mouth and Steve's tongue-.

"Come on Running Man," the Runner called, snapping Steve out of his thoughts. 

The two were standing several yards apart, not touching, not kissing. The Runner had his arms crossed as he raised his eyebrows at Steve.

"Sorry," Steve called back, trying his damnedest not to blush. "Kinda zoned out there a bit."

"Gathered as much," the man commented, walking back to where Steve stood frozen. "The name's Sam, by the way. Sam Wilson. I figured if we were gonna become running partners we may as well know each other."

"Good to meet you Sam," Steve replied. "Steve Rogers."

"Likewise Steve," Sam grinned. "Now how about I kick your butt for another lap."

With that, Sam took off running, leaving a mildly love struck Steve behind. Steve's face spread into a dopey grin and he took off after Sam. In the back of his mind, a thought floated through unbidden.

'You knew who I was with every step that I ran to you.'

***

There was the Business Woman, whom Steve had seen walking down the street one day. Steve had been sitting at his usual table in the hole-in-the-wall café he frequented and sketching and there she was. She had an intense stare as she more or less power walked down the sidewalk in heels that may have cost more than Steve made in a month. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, practical and business ready. In one hand she held her briefcase and the other was holding a large cup of coffee. The Business Woman was talking sternly to no one that Steve could see, her deep voice laced with frustration and authority; Steve assumed she was using a Bluetooth headset to talk to whoever was making her mad.

All of a sudden, the Business Woman stopped right in front of Steve. She pressed a button on her headset and turned to glare at Steve. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to stare?" she snapped.

Steve jumped slightly and instantly blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry ma'am," he stammered out. "I didn't mean to."

The Business Woman eyed Steve for a minute, her eyes scanning up and down his body with deep scrutiny. Steve felt very self conscious in that minute and wished the sidewalk would swallow him up. Oddly enough, the Business Woman's face softened marginally.

"You're not unattractive," the woman mused.

"Um, thanks?" Steve said hesitantly.

"I have about half an hour," the Business Woman continued. "If you're interested."

Steve's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he nodded. He quickly gathered up his sketchbook and shoved it in his bag. With one last, long swig of his coffee, he set off after the Business Woman. She lead him to an office building nearby and into the elevator. Once inside, the two stood in silence, neither looking at each other before they reached the top floor. The Business Woman strode out of the elevator, her head held high and Steve followed obediently. The two crossed through a sea of cubicles before reaching a secretary's desk just to the side of a windowless door.

"Phil, I'm not to be disturbed for the next half hour," the Business Woman said to her secretary, a middle aged man that was balding, as she handed her briefcase and coffee to him. "Understood?"

"Understood Director," the man, Phil, responded. He gave Steve an appraising look as the Business Woman opened the door to her office and ushered Steve inside.

Steve closed the door behind him and before Steve could say anything, the Business Woman had him pressed up against the closed door, her mouth on his in a searing kiss. Steve readily submitted to the kiss, having no doubt in his mind that she was in charge. Steve was along for the ride, and damn, was he going to enjoy every minute of this woman's fierceness. He tentatively reached up to touch the back of her head, but was stopped short when the Business Woman grasped his wrist with a vice-like grip.

"Don't touch the hair," the Business Woman growled.

"Yes ma'am," Steve breathed against her lips.

The Business Woman surged forward, claiming Steve's lips once again. There was very little passion in the kiss, it was all about power and Steve was willing to comply. Steve groaned slightly as her teeth grazed his lower lip, a smirk tugging on her lips as she pulled back. They were both mildly breathless, and both had smudged lipstick on their lips, but both were enjoying the moment immensely. The Business Woman pressed Steve back against the door once more, her tongue entering his mouth and running along his tongue. Steve shivered, the taste of coffee lingering on her tongue. The Business Woman moved her hands to Steve's shoulders and ran neatly manicured nails down his arms, making him shiver with pleasure once more.

"You like that?" she whispered against his lips.

"Yes ma'am," Steve repeated, not sure what else to say.

"Good, because I need that report at five," the Business Woman on the sidewalk said as she passed Steve.

Steve shook his head, back at the café and most certainly not pinned against the door by a woman who could easily be on the Forbes 500 list. Steve bit his lip as the Business Woman paused in front of him.

"Fine, that'll work," the Business Woman sighed, never looking at Steve. "Also, move my noon appointment to one at the restaurant I like. The one with the good crab cakes. Tell them Maria Hill needs a table for three. Thanks Phil, you're the best."

With that, the Business Woman, Maria Hill, walked away and out of Steve's life. Steve looked down at his sketchbook to see the rough sketch of where the Business Woman would go in his picture. With a small grin, Steve moved to continue the drawing as the café's outdoor speakers supplied background music.

"Electing strange perfections in any stranger I choose…."

***

There was the Queen, aptly designated due to her accent. Steve couldn't pinpoint where in England she was from, he just knew that she was from England. He first saw the Queen at a dance club he had been dragged to. It was Oldies night, so everyone was dressed like they were from the 1940's, Steve included. When they first walked in, Steve heard the Queen talking to someone named Howard. Steve had turned his head towards the source of the accent, catching sight of a blue coat and a red hat before he was pulled into the ballroom. The friends that Steve had came with had long since abandoned him, but Steve was, deep down, fine with that. It gave him an excuse to leave sooner rather than later.

From across the room, he could see her sitting alone at one of the tables. Her hair was perfectly curled and her lipstick was a shade of red that screamed "I'm powerful". Steve bit his lip, wondering if he should go over and talk to her. With a shake of his head, Steve sat back in his seat, his head tilted down, and resolved to leave within the next few minutes.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans, as a pair of red heels entered his line of sight and a rich voice greeted, "Hello."

Steve's head shot up and he found himself face to face with the Queen. She seemed taller up close, but the heels probably had something to do with that. Steve gave her a smile and stood, his hand outstretched for her to shake it.

"Hello. I'm Steve," he said, trying to at least be polite.

"Peggy," the Queen replied, shaking his hand. "Care to dance?"

"Aren't the men supposed to ask the women to dance here?" Steve asked.

"No, I think we can eschew the gender roles of the 1940's for now, don't you agree?" the Queen commented, her eyes flashing.

Steve shrugged and gestured towards the dance floor, "Lead the way."

Peggy took Steve's and lead him onto the dance floor. Once they found a spot near the edge, Peggy rested one hand on Steve's shoulder and took Steve's hand in the other. Steve tentatively put his hand on Peggy's waist and grinned sheepishly at her.

"Is now a good time to mention that I've never danced with anyone before?" he asked.

"You've never danced before?" Peggy questioned, her eyes doing a quick survey of Steve's muscular frame.

"Well, when I was younger, I had a lot of health problems," Steve explained, swaying the two of them to the music. "As a result, I was a pretty scrawny kid. Not many girls were lining up to dance with someone they might step on."

"That's a shame," Peggy commented. "I supposed I'll just have to teach you then."

"Be my guest," Steve replied easily.

The pair switched positions, with the Queen leading and Steve following. She taught him the basic moves to the dances they were expected to know and soon Steve was leading again, holding Peggy close in his arms.

"Hard to believe you've never done this before," Peggy remarked. "You're a natural."

"I had an excellent teacher," Steve muttered.

Peggy licked her lips and reached up to press her lips lightly against Steve's. Steve responded in turn, sensing no urgency behind the kiss. It was a slow, delicate thing, not something that Steve wanted to rush. After a few moments, Peggy pulled back and gave Steve a smile that made his stomach flip. As she leaned up to continue, Steve suddenly found himself on the opposite side of the ballroom from the Queen. The Queen, Peggy, was in deep conversation with a blonde haired girl that was hanging off of Peggy's every word. When the blonde girl giggled, Peggy gave her a smile and a quick peck on the lips. Steve watched the exchange before rising to his feet and walking from the room. Once outside, Steve ran his hand through his hair and made his way home. As he walked, a car drove past with its windows down and Steve could hear the lyrics from the radio.

"Would things be easier if there was a right way? Honey there is no right way."

***

The Vet was someone that Steve had met in an unlikely place. Steve didn't usually venture into DC's LGBTQIA club scene, but today was a special case. Steve's ex had gotten engaged and Steve needed a distraction. The club was filled with people way younger than Steve and it made him a little uncomfortable to be surrounded by people in their early twenties and God, did THAT make Steve feel old. The only other person even close to Steve's age was the guy sitting on the other end of the bar, who seemed to be doing a pretty good job of ignoring the loud bass that permeated through the club.

Lacking anything better to do, Steve opted to survey the other man. He had what Steve assumed was shaggy brown hair, it was hard to tell with it pulled back in a bun like that. The man's cheeks were covered in a hint of stubble and he had bags under his eyes. Under the sleeve of the flannel shirt he wore, Steve could catch a glimpse of a metal arm, the light from the club's dim lighting reflecting off of it every time the man took a swig of his drink. Steve found himself itching to get closer to the man and before he realized what he was doing, he was making his way down the bar to him.

"This seat taken?" Steve asked the man.

"Nah, it's all yours pal," the man replied in a gruff Brooklyn accent and a wave of the metal arm. Steve took a seat next to the man and the man gestured at the bartender for another drink. While they waited, the man spoke again, "You've been starin' at me all night. Either you want to ask about the arm or you wanna make a move. So which is it?"

Steve looked at the man and found that he was staring at Steve with focused, gray eyes. Sniper eyes, some part of Steve's brain supplied. Steve took a sip of his own drink and cleared his throat, "Would it be bad of me to say both?"

The man snorted before responding, "Lost it after I fell off a mountain. There was an explosion, I fell and lost my arm. That's all that there is to it."

Steve nodded and returned to his drink as the Vet did the same. The two sat in relative silence for a few more minutes before the Vet spoke again.

"So, if this is your idea of makin' a move, I have to admit that I'm less than impressed pal," the Vet commented, not looking at Steve.

"That so?" Steve asked, taking another sip of his drink before shifting closer to the Vet and tugging him in for a kiss.

The kiss was sloppy as hell and only lasted for a few seconds, but Steve frankly couldn't care less. They broke apart and the Vet shot to his feet. He grabbed Steve's hand and dragged him through the sea of grinding bodies towards the men's restroom.

"I see you're one for romance," Steve shouted over the music.

"You're one to talk," the Vet shouted back as he dragged Steve into the bathroom.

Without much preamble, Steve and Bucky moved on each other. The kiss was sloppier than the first with teeth clacking against each other as Steve's desperation for a distraction and the Vet's own need for distraction overcame the pair. The two final fell into a more coordinated rhythm, their kisses becoming less frantic as the pair gripped each other. The kiss was just as desperate as before, but there was now something else added, a sense of relief? Steve wasn't sure, but at that moment, nothing else mattered.

"You know," the Vet said as he kissed along Steve's neck, his metal arm cold against Steve's skin as it slid under Steve's shirt, "you never told me your name."

"Does it matter?" Steve asked.

"I usually like to know the name of the guy I'm about to blow in the bathroom," the Vet muttered into Steve's ear.

Steve let out a choked noise before murmuring, "Steve, it's Steve."

"Steve huh?" the Vet repeated. "I'm Bucky."

"Bucky Barnes," the Vet said, standing next to Steve at the bar. "Mind if I sit next to you?"

"Not at all," Steve replied. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"Nice to meet you Steve," Bucky said, flashing Steve a grin.

The two lapsed into comfortable silence as they nursed their drinks. Around them, the younger generation continued to dance to the throbbing bass. But all Steve could hear was a gentle whispering in the back of his head.

'There's an art to life's distractions, to somehow escape the burning weight. The art of scraping through. Some like to imagine the dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do.'

***

The Spy was probably the most interesting one. Steve would see her around from time to time, out and about on the town. She liked to frequent a lot of the same places that he would frequent and had a different name, personality and hairstyle each time Steve saw her. The people that the Spy would be with probably couldn't tell, but Steve had seen her around often enough to know. Steve figured that she was one of those people who liked frequent change, but he still liked to pretend that she was involved with espionage anyway.

One Sunday afternoon while Steve was sitting at his favorite café, the Spy showed up. Her hair was styled in a way that reminded Steve of Sharon, and it made him smile a bit; it was a good look on her. Steve took a swig of his coffee and went back to his book, electing to not stare at the Spy. He made it seven pages before his eyes wandered back up to the Spy. She was sitting a few seats away, coffee cup untouched as she surveyed the area. Steve guessed that she was waiting for a friend, as she was dressed in casual clothes rather than the near formal wear he had often seen her in. Realizing that he was staring, Steve returned to his book, hoping that the Spy hadn't noticed.

"You know, if you keep showing up wherever I go, I'm going to get the wrong idea," a low voice stated from behind Steve.

Steve turned to look behind him. The Spy was standing behind him, her arms crossed. Steve suddenly had the overwhelming feeling that she could murder him in seven different ways and no one would ever know he was gone. Steve calmly closed his book and gestured towards the empty seat next to him. The Spy raised an eyebrow before slipping into the seat with a level of grace Steve didn't think possible.

"So, either you and I have the same hangout spots, or your stalking me," the Spy commented as she leveled Steve with a deadly stare.

"How do I know you're not stalking me?" Steve asked, only partially joking.

The Spy stared at him for a minute before scoffing, "That's cute. Worried about a harmless red head stalking you, Big Guy?"

"Something tells me that you're not harmless," Steve blurted out without thinking.

The Spy almost looked impressed as she murmured, "Perceptive."

"I try," Steve replied.

The Spy studied his face for a minute before she rose to her feet, "This has been fun, but I'd better get going. I've got people to stalk."

Steve snorted and the Spy leaned down, brushing a quick peck on Steve's lips. While the kiss was quick, there was something kind of sinister about it, like it could have been a warning. She flashed him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and she turned to leave.

"Wait," Steve said, rising to his feet. He placed a hand on the Spy's shoulder and turned her back around, surprised that she complied. He leaned in for one more kiss and was surprised to find empty air.

Steve opened his eyes. He was sitting at his table, alone. The Spy was seated at her own table, an older black man with an eye patch sitting across from her. The two were engrossed in conversation, tones low. Steve ran his tongue over his lips and turned back to his book. The café was quiet and bits of their conversation inevitably floated over to Steve, though the only part that stuck with Steve was the Spy's name: Natasha. Natasha the maybe spy. With a small smile, Steve added her name to the list, singing softly to himself.

"Love with every stranger, the stranger the better."

***

Steve had a, well, he wouldn't really call it a problem. It was more of a habit. A strange habit, but a habit nonetheless. He had a habit of falling in love with strangers, just a little bit every day with someone new.


End file.
